


Black and Blue

by TeamGwenee



Series: The Kingslayer's Captive [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Brienne attends two important Court functions.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: The Kingslayer's Captive [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814104
Comments: 9
Kudos: 78





	Black and Blue

Two of the gowns Jaime had commissioned for her stood out among from the rest.

One was the black gown. Suitable for the execution, but she should not wear it afterwards in mourning, Jaime had advised. Jaime had tried to talk his father out of insisting Brienne attend, but Tywin insisted all the hostages be present to see their King done to death. 

And it would have been cowardice in Brienne’s eyes to shield herself from the sight. 

The city turned out, many of whom still carried love for the handsome Stag. Renly was gallant and charming til the last. He had lived his entire life performing for the adoration of the masses, and this was his last show. To see him, so charming, so handsome, jesting bravely with his guards, praying solemnly with his Septon, and graciously forgiving his executioner, tears were streaming as steadily as the blood pumping from Renly Baratheon’s neck.

Under Tywin’s guidance, Joffrey put on a show of regret, bewailing loudly the love he had once shared with his uncle, and his despair that he should be seduced by the lure of the crown.

Those who came to the execution with picnics and their children for a bit of spectacle and show, were treated with a very moving and effective performance.

Brienne was so lost in her head that she did not see Loras Tyrell storm up behind her, his handsome face haggard and grief stricken. He caught her arm, fingers burying deep into Brienne’s flesh.

“I’ve found you at last,” he hissed into her ear. “The Kingslayer’s whore. I thought you were loyal to Renly.”

“I was,” Brienne insisted. “I am.”

“You have always been an absurd, pitiful creature. But I thought your loyalty meant something. Renly gave you a chance when no one else would, when the rest of the world laughed at you like the freak you are. But he took you into his service. He trusted you. Trusted your honour.”

“You were with the King when he was taken!” Brienne snapped, thrusting Loras’s body far from her. “I was captured helping him escape. It was you who failed in your duty to protect him!”

Loras’s face turned grey. He could not doubt the truth in her words.

A small smile of scorn flickered at his lips. “I see now that you have found a new master,” he said disdainfully. Your loyalty is so easily bought. You will swear yourself to any pretty face who will lend you a soft word.”

“Don’t be ludicrous,” Brienne said stiffly.

“The Kingslayer. Don’t deny it,” Loras snapped. “I see how you look at him. The whole court does. It’s writ plain in your eyes. You love him how you claimed to once love Renly. Before your fickle heart found somebody better.”

Sneering in disgust, Loras spat at her shoes and strode away.

  
  


~

The second gown was blue. Soft blue velvet , cut straight, with long simple sleeves and a train that dropped from her shoulders and flowed gently behind her.

“Ser Jaime was most particular about the colour,” the seamstress said as she fitted Brienne. “Blue, to match your eyes.”

Brienne looked at herself in the mirror, to find the colour did indeed closely match the shade of her eyes. 

_ I see how you look at him. The whole court does. It’s writ plain in your eyes _

Brienne shook her head. It was absurd. And yet.

~

“Dance with me?”

Brienne spluttered in surprise. The day had been long and tedious, and Brienne was yearning to put it behind her and go to bed. She planned only to stay at the ball for the King’s wedding as long as absolutely necessary. No one would miss her if she went.

But Jaime had sought her out.

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“I can take time off for one dance,” Jaime insisted. “And who else should I dance with but you?”

“The bride?” Brienne suggested. “Your king?” A rush of sick curiosity rose in her. “What about your sister?”

Jaime blinked, his face screwing up in displeasure. “She cannot bear the touch of the cripple,” he said bitterly. Brienne wondered at her mourning he should have asked his sister first, and only came to her for a second choice.

“I can’t dance,” Brienne said. “I look a fool when I dance. Everyone will make mock.”

Jaime looked over his shoulder and put a hand on Brienne’s arm.

“Come with me,” he said.

He led her out of the Great Hall, into a wide, barren gallery. The windows had been thrust open to allow air into the overstuffed castle. Moonlight streamed in, and in the distance Brienne could see lit candles in every window of King’s Landing. 

Jaime stood behind her, placing one hand on his waist, and taking Brienne’s hand in the other.

“Do you know the steps?” he asked, as he began moving in time to th music echoing from the Hall.

Brienne followed him. “Barely. I will trip and look an ass.”

“No one else is here to see, so what does it matter?” Jaime asked. “I do not care what you look like. I have long become accustomed to your ugliness. Although,” he paused to wind a stray lock of Brienne’s hair around his finger. “You do look uncommonly well tonight. Your hair looks softer.”   
  


Brienne cursed herself for blushing like a maiden. She was such a fool to be touched by such a trivial compliment, especially when it had been wrapped up in insults. Although with Jaime, you were lucky to get the compliment.

  
“The maid you sent washed it in lemon juice,” she stutterd, as Jaime began to glide with her in his arms once more. “She said it makes hair lighter and softer.”

She thanked the Gods Jaime had not complimented her dress, or she would have said something really foolish, like it had been padded.

“You are not bad at this,” Jaime noted, “And I thought you could only be graceful with a sword in hand.”   
  


“That is how I prefer it,” Brienne admitted. “Though I have not been armed for some time.”

“I will arrange for you to be allowed to the training yards,” Jaime said. “I should like to try my skills against you before you leave. Do not think it is just my fondness for you speaking when I say that I think you could last a good ten minutes against me.”

“And do think that it is my fondness for you speaking when I say I think you could last five without me.”

Jaime sent Brienne into a sudden twirl, laughing as she stumbled and catching her deftly before she could fall to the floor, picking up the dance again without missing a beat.

“Prat,” she muttered under her breath.

“Wench,” he said with a glittering smile. 


End file.
